Jim — you weren’t angry at the world. You were just tired of pretending it made sense.

That’s the spirit I painted into this jacket — black leather layered in blue, cool as the night air that never quite forgave you.

Every stroke carries defiance, loneliness, and that quiet question burning behind your eyes.

My art doesn’t tidy rebellion. It immortalizes it.
You didn’t need to win. You just needed to be seen.

This one’s for the misunderstood — painted in blue, born to stand alone, impossible to forget.

Jim — you weren’t angry at the world. You were just tired of pretending it made sense.

That’s the spirit I painted into this jacket — black leather layered in blue, cool as the night air that never quite forgave you.

Every stroke carries defiance, loneliness, and that quiet question burning behind your eyes.

My art doesn’t tidy rebellion. It immortalizes it.
You didn’t need to win. You just needed to be seen.

This one’s for the misunderstood — painted in blue, born to stand alone, impossible to forget.